


Kaleidoscope Eyes

by cxhztile



Series: Written Among The Stars [1]
Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, M/M, Major Character Injury, Minor Injuries, heart eyes motherfucker, idk what else to say
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-16
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2019-08-02 21:36:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16313102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cxhztile/pseuds/cxhztile
Summary: What can you do when your first officer is a self-sacrificing idiot?(Title from "Kaleidoscope Eyes" by Panic! At The Disco)





	1. Entrapment

**Author's Note:**

> telling u off the bat that this is shit even tho i spent all day on it. also as far as starting context, just imagine away team went down on a planet or base where the natives were hostile, use machetes, and cut spock's dumbass

“Had the machete slipped in a little higher and about an inch deeper, you would have been paralyzed from the waist down. Consider yourself lucky.” McCoy hissed, shaking his head slightly as he finished the scan on the lower back wound the crew’s hobgoblin was now sporting.

“This is no matter of ‘luck’, Doctor; It’s pure coincidence, that of which I owe my life.” Spock retorted, not allowing the good doctor to amble around whatever twisted sentiment he was offering. The Vulcan began to lean forward ever so slightly, placing ounces of his weight onto the floor nearest the floor, reaching for his onyx colored undershirt and having no heed to whatever minute instances of pain gathered in the base of his spine. 

“‘And the _hell_ you think you’re doin’?” McCoy questioned, arms folding at his chest and an eyebrow adding testament to their constant war of whose eyebrows could climb higher.  

“Your procedural examination has finished, therefore it is an ample opportunity for me to return to my duties on the bridge.” Spock answered, as if it was a universal fact. It was, in a way, a logical follow-through. 

“Not if I do _this_ ,” The good doctor’s demeanor changed in an instant to something more mischievous, “Sickbay to Captain.” The dark brows of his patient on the exam table furrowed, fabric in hand nearly fumbling out at the near immediate response to this call.

“ **Kirk here**. How is he, Bones?” Usually, Jim’s voice was comparable to an audible velvet, smooth and gentle, free of kinks. However, this time, there was a tinge of true worry behind the inquiry. 

“He’ll survive -- _sadly_ ,” Bones found amusement in the heated exhale that came out of Spock’s nose, “But, I’m gonna keep him in sickbay on medical rest for a day to monitor that green laced pit. Oh, and the gash.” 

“Alright, duly noted. I’ll be down there at the end of this shift. **Kirk out**.” 

Had it not been a display of emotion, Spock would have wholeheartedly rolled his eyes at McCoy’s smirk and pride in himself.

“Now, if you try anything when I’m not looking, I’ll see to it that I snap your spine myself, ya hear?” He threatened, beginning to scavenge together what he needed to produce sufficient padding for the wound.

“Acknowledged…”


	2. The Visit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wonder who it is that comes down to sickbay?

Any other person would have been haphazardly splayed on the biobed, but, logically, Spock was not. His feet laid together, touching at the ankle. His fingers were steepled as his hands were placed on his rib-cage, just below his chest. His eyelids and lashes didn’t dare to flutter, nor any muscle move for that matter. Jim had grown used to this pose of full concentration as he worked within his mind to mend any injuries or pain, and each time, it was comparable to Sleeping Beauty. However, he certainly was never a damsel in distress or as dainty as Aurora.

His longing gaze and train of thought was cut short by Leonard materializing suddenly at his side. 

“Bones… Don’t you think he should be -- oh -- on his side or his stomach?” Kirk asked in a hushed tone.

“Believe me -- I tried. I couldn’t coax the stubborn bastard to do either, despite how much pressure it would alleviate off that area. Reasoned that it wouldn’t matter once he finished and I got tired of fighting him on it.” McCoy admitted defeatedly, eyes sweeping over the form in front of them once more. 

“Anyway… Sit down, Jim. I know you’ve hardly slept since it happened. It’s written all over your face.” He cautioned, already moving around to grab a chair. Jim graciously took the chair, offering a small thank you as he sat and pulled himself towards the edge of the bed. The prominent wave at the front of his hairline was attempting to fall into his line of sight but it was blurry anyway, pupils too occupied recording every detail of the face he was eye-fully watching. 

“I don’t know how you can stand to do that constantly. I wouldn’t quite deem him eyecandy…”

“By your standards, no. The rest of us can appreciate it, though.” Jim finally answered, eyes refusing to waver to even shoot a look in McCoy’s direction. He gently snaked a hand away from the laced hand formation, holding tenderly despite his knowledge of why Vulcan hands were off limits. 

“I’d tell you to get a room but I’d put your head on a pike for being a conspirator in helping him escape.” This store away Kirk’s stare to audit several blinks at a sympathetic face. McCoy stepped forward a moment to pat his friend on the back, as a signal of his understanding for the concern being exhibited and also to inaudibly announce his departure from the room. 

After the shutting of the door, the room went silent except for the quiet sounds of breathing.

* * *

When the healing trance broke, Spock found one hand at his abdomen and the other trapped in a near vice grip as it was caught in a grasp under another’s head. He had heard and felt everything that happened hours past but had respectfully tuned them out to hold his focus. Now, more than ever, the heat emanating from the cheek pressed to the back of his hand was prominent. This was both in the amount of warmth being given off was surprisingly to his tastes, but whose cheek was as well.

Regardless of her continuous little peaks at affection, it was not Christine Chapel. Doctor McCoy would never dare to lay a finger on his person, even if medical duty called. Other Vulcans knew better and there were none present on the ship in that moment. No, it was someone else. A soft curl generously hung at his wrist, the end wispy and faintly touching his skin. 

The aforementioned lock of hair was a golden brown, honey in the light. The sleeve that was easiest to see was an olive green with metallic gold bands at the cuff. No doubt the eyes closed above the cheeks where a dazzling hazel. He understood the concern for his well-being that had been held but found this level of display unnecessary and, frankly, disquieting. It was fortunate that his mental shields were still very much up or there would have been a mutual sensing of internal emotions, that of which he figured neither could handle as of that moment. 

It was god-send, as humans peculiarly put it, that Ms. Chapel took notice of his sudden consciousness, by the glare of his lashes fluttered as circumstances were considered. She silently hailed McCoy and they held a conversation with only their eyes, deciding who would do what, either way begrudgingly. Then everything happened in a blur; Christine gently woke the captain, who painted a bashful look on his face at the audience and his hand holding action. She saw him off to his quarters to get proper rest as Bones recalibrated his equipment to obtain Vulcan readings. Spock was in what one could only describe as a daze, eyebrows knitted in his quest to analyze the situation, as his scar was once again sought to and redressed. 

“What’s going on in that garish trap you call a skull?” McCoy huffed, cleaning up his supplies and having painfully sat through the tension of whatever was lulling in the other’s brain.

“For what purpose was the captain at my side just now?” Spock interrogated, not bothering to turn from his fixed point of gawking at the door.

“He came to see if you were alright and seemed to have passed out asleep once he finished making googly eyes at you.” McCoy explained truthfully, not even batting an eyelash. 

“Given the pretenses, I cannot-”

“Listen here, you green wired computer,” McCoy hissed, preemptively cutting him off, “Spare me the logic and emotional lack thereof speech. Jim was worried sick about your pretty little head, whether you can compute it or not. He always is, no matter how big of an injury you sustain.” His manner conveyed that he’d been holding this back for a good while, assumingly irritated. 

“Doctor, I seem to be missing a part of the equation but you nor the captain will inform me what it is.” 

“Well, you need to go talk to Jim about that one. Now get out of my sickbay before I drag you out by the point of your ear.” Again with the empty threats, but it was enough to get the message to leave. The sickbay attire was doffed and his usual outfit pulled on as neatly as always. 

If he were fully human, he would have said the suspense was killing him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is like the only half decent chapter lmao


	3. Discussion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So... they talk it over

The adjoined bathroom had its pros and cons, for sure. This time, though, it was a slight advantage to be able to faintly hear stirring on the other side of the steel wall. Well, this in tangent with hyper-sensitive Vulcan hearing, of course. When Spock was completely sure Kirk was awake in the room over, he requested his presence via computer comm. The door opened moments later, revealing a version of Jim where his hair was array and he was still rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“Spock, our quarters are a hop, skip, and a jump away from each other. So, you don’t have to comm everytime. It only takes a few seconds to come to my door.” He relayed, not having enough time to stifle his following yawn. His stretching as he passed through the doorway warranted his vertebrae to crack in an unsettlingly loud pop.

“I did not want to disturb your slumber, any further than it already had been.” Was Spock’s reply from behind steepled fingers.

“Alright, that’s valid. So, you said you had something to discuss?” Kirk sat back against the room’s desk on the same side where Spock was in his chair, hands delicately bracing on its edge at either side of him. 

“Yes… Our good doctor notified me on the consensus of your… unease towards my current affliction. Therefore, I am now taking it upon myself to inquire why precisely.” With this, the Vulcan stood, hands coming together behind his back in normal fashion. Jim’s mouth opened the second after his eyebrows crease but shut when he couldn’t formulate a response, biting his lower lip as his eyes followed his questioner.

“You express sympathy and worry for every crewmember, yes, but on this occasion, it was escalated. Moreover, a first officer and chief science officer is certainly more dispensable than a captain. It would not take you long to find either in my absence.” Spock continued. By this point, Jim’s heart had sunken so far it was resting in his left boot. 

“I’ve heard you once said it amazed you how little humans regarded other life. Yet here you are, with little regard for your own.” Was all he could manage, eyes fixed upon the floor though it lacked any change.

“In the line of duty, if putting my life at risk to save my captain is the only available option, then it is only logical to adhere. It would be difficult to seek out someone even minutely comparable to you and the crew would be lost without your guidance.”  No matter how true all of this was, it was still troublesome to bite back on the bitterness catching in his throat.

“What if there were another factor involved, one that you were disregarding?”

“Such as?”

“Love.” The delivery was simple, broad enough to evoke any response.

“I fail to see how an emotion has relevance in this situation.” Again with the regularly scheduled Vulcan philosophy.

“If I were to say it plainly enough, would you be able to understand? I love you.” It was nearly a weight off his chest to say those simple words but the touch of iron flooding the front of his mouth from where he bit too hard on his lip grounded him.

“And I you, though I, again, don’t comprehend the relation to our current discourse.” Spock’s words were so blunt, it felt as though it was a mundane knowledge.

“I,” It was all lackluster and a lot to wrap one’s head around so quickly, “Run that one by me again.”

“You expressed feelings of infatuation and I admitted I reciprocate, or that’s what I believe I said.” 

“Then you must understand why my concern for anything that happens to you goes above and beyond? Unless I’m looking at this through the wrong lens.”

“If I allow my human half to indulge in such feelings, then, yes, I understand.” A burdensome thing to permit this, however.

“Then I rest my case.” Jim dipped the dispute off there, setting his gaze firmly into the chocolate eyes before him. He stepped forward from his resting place to meet nearly chest to chest.

“Now, do me a favor, Mr. Spock, and don’t scare me half to death so often, okay?” He asked softly, a doting smile appearing at the end.

“Acknowledged, Captain.” His eyebrow perked a little and there was a ghost a smile cursing the corners of his lips. 

Jim took this as a perfect opportunity to wrap his arms at the base of his neck and greedily initiate a soft kiss. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this whole fic is god awful. sorry yall. come yell at me about how terrible it is on tumblr. my main is eroscalling and my st sideblog is chartreuseblood

**Author's Note:**

> i sat on this idea for a little bit. and it def could have turned out better. but im a shitty writer so here we are


End file.
